It Began on a Bridge
by cocacolagirl97
Summary: If you ever feel the need to discover your own mortality, I definitely recommend taking a sideways stroll along the outside of a bridge four stories above a raging river. Loki X OC slow-burn with appearances by The Avengers.
1. 3 AM Drives

It had been a different world the first time we met.

Back then things were, well, simpler.

Humans had frolicked along in our mundane lives solely stressed about job promotions or why we could never truly find love. Okay… maybe that last part was just me. Nevertheless, we existed in a sort of ironic peace. Suffering deep tragedies from our own hands until we had become so desensitized that we simply tuned them out. We concerned ourselves with creating bigger and better technology, with curing diseases, with placing a man on mars. Back then, those who believed in aliens were called conspiracy theorists.

I had been 22-years-old and the most out-of-character 22-year-old I knew. A fact of which I was mainly proud but occasionally saddened due to the loneliness. I was the girl who opted for a night in with my best friend and a batch of shot-shaped-cookies filled with milk over a night on the town on my 21st birthday. The girl who would find her mind flitting away to hundreds of fictional scenarios in which I was finally fulfilling my purpose in life. The girl who got a thrill out of jury duty, yes I'm serious, and who was terrified of wisdom teeth surgery simply because I did not want to lose control of my mind. I was the girl who cared far more about others than they would ever care about me, yet seldom showed it. The girl who was intensely quiet with a brain that would never shut up, who was intensely innocent with a belief that she could kill if the need arose, who was intensely clueless about the workings of her own mind with a clarity on the inner thoughts of all others. I was the girl who took 3 a.m. drives religiously because I found it to be the only time I was truly myself for the world to see.

And so there I was.

It had been exactly 3:23 a.m. I believe. I had glanced down at the clock on the dashboard, really for no reason that I can remember, as I approached the bridge. The only car in sight, as usual, I rolled the windows down in anticipation of the wind blowing through me and the sound of the current far below. I was tempted nearly every time to close my eyes and truly take in the moment only to remember that there was no way I was going to be another death-by-bridge statistic. I also had no desire to die in general, but that's just the way my brain works.

It had been so dark that I would chalk it up to sheer luck that I happened to catch sight of the shadowy figure as I drove past, except for the fact that I've never really believed in luck or coincidences. Everything happens for a reason, believe me, I'd know.

Even as I pulled to the side, I told myself that I was just seeing things. Perhaps even creating that heroism scenario I'd so craved. But as I walked closer to that shadow on the railing, it became apparent that I had actually found myself in a situation more intense than my rich fantasy world could make up.

For an instant, I considered that perhaps all this time I had fooled myself into believing this was something I could handle, but it was mere moments before that strange and overpowering belief I held in my greater purpose kicked back in.

As I approached, slowly and cautiously, I prayed silently to myself. Asking God, and then downright begging Him as I got closer, to let his will be done in whatever was about to go down. To let me help this shadow if I could.

I was nearly in the range where the shadow would notice me when all insanity took over my attempt at creating a strategy. I had heard too many times of people jumping before another could get close enough to grab them and there was only one way I could think to prevent that.

I'm not known for my small gestures. When I'm all in, I go all in.

I was climbing over the railing in an instant and then clinging to the thing for dear life behind me.

Like I said before, I really and truly do not actually have a death wish.

I was facing forward, my front exposed to the pitch black endless abyss before me, my hair whipping around dangerously. I couldn't help but comprehend, even if only for a split-second, that I had quite possibly never felt that kind of enthralling freedom in my life.

I shook my head to return my mind to the task at hand and when I turned it slightly, I found that the shadow, or man as I could now tell, was already staring intently at me.

He was tall, almost lanky yet well-built, with flowing black hair, and even in that dark I could somehow tell his eyes were piercing.

"Hey!" I called with a 'what's up' sort of nod.

And then instantly laughed out loud at my own lack of gracefulness in the situation, before quickly forcing my mouth back into a straight line.

The main continued to stare, practically emotionless but with a slight hint of curiosity.

"I'm just gonna, um, slide a bit closer so we can properly talk. This wind is so loud!" I yelled.

He continued to stare so I took that as confirmation he wouldn't fling himself forward in response to my movement.

I'm not going to lie. Sliding those few feet to eventually find myself resting shoulder to shoulder with the man was intensely terrifying. If you ever feel the need to discover your own mortality, I definitely recommend taking a sideways stroll along the outside of a bridge four stories above a raging river.

The man shifted over slightly so we were no longer touching, but other than that made no movement or acknowledgement.

"I truly don't know what to say," I admitted to myself, under my breath, allowing the wind to carry my words away. The man, however, quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm Violet," I finally offered.

The man actually looked slightly disgusted as he stated more than asked, "You're named after a flower."

"I'm named after a color actually," I shot back slightly offended, but then quickly softened. "What's your name?"

"Why?"

"Because," I sent him a playful wink. "If we're going to be friends then I'll need that bit of information."

He began to roll his eyes and then seemly decided it would be too much effort.

"I can assure you we will not be friends," he determined.

"Because you're going to jump?"

I figured I might as well be blunt. It wasn't as if we both weren't fully aware of what was going on.

"Perhaps," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"A man of few words I see," I stated. "That could make things difficult if you're looking for me to be your own personal suicide letter."

I thought maybe I could shock him into thinking logically.

"I have absolutely no use for you," he returned.

I huffed. "Listen up, I understand you're about to die and so social norms don't really apply here but is it really necessary to be rude?"

The man suddenly seemed slightly more interested.

"About to die," he repeated.

"Yes about to die," I felt hopeful. "And I interrupted my important night and will probably be attempting to untangle my hair for weeks because of this so the least you could do would be show some simple human courtesy."

"Human courtesy you say? Isn't that such a concept," he smirked. "You think I am planning to end my life?

"Do you see yourself?" I moved to gesture with my hand at our predicament only to nearly slip and fling my hand back onto the railing breathing heavily.

The man made no move to intervene.

He seemed to have suddenly lost interest in me and was now gazing into the darkness below us.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant, so I took my insanity strategy to the highest level.

Without warning I let go of the railing with my left arm and flung my body around, grabbing the railing on the other side of the man and securing myself as best I could so that I was now clinging chest to chest with him.

Needless to say, his interest was back.

"What are you doing?" He peered down at me genuinely curious.

"I honestly haven't the slightest idea," I realized at the same time as I said it aloud. "If I had to guess, I'd say doing my dang best to save your life."

"Why?"

I stared directly up at him. "Because I'm selfish. Because I can't be the person who failed and let another extinguish his own life. Because I want to be the person who inspired a second chance."

"You would risk my jumping and taking you with me for your desire to look kindly upon yourself?"

"Selfishness is a curious and strangely powerful thing."

He tilted his head slightly at that.

"Indeed it is," he agreed.

"Are you going to jump and take me with you?" I asked bluntly. "I'd just like to know."

The fact that I could actually see him considering it for a few moments is something that I will truly never forget.

"No," he finally conquered and I felt relief flood my bones.

But then he continued.

"There are worse things than death," he smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I shall leave you to simmer in your failure for the rest of your short existence instead."

And then his hands were under my arms and I was being easily lifted back to the other side of the railing and dumped onto the concrete.

He waited for me to regain my footing so I could stare directly into his eyes.

"I'll never forget you."

I don't know why I said it, but as soon as it came out I knew I meant it.

"Oh my dear," he was grinning now. "I think you're quite right."

And then he simply let go.


	2. A Day in the City

It was two years later when I saw him next.

The day that has gone down in the history books as The Battle of New York. The single greatest terror attack on U.S. soil that the world had ever seen.

The day that I had been conveniently visiting a friend in the city, intent on finally taking some time to relax and regroup.

I had literally been climbing the steps to her doorway when the sky had ripped in half. I barely had time to register that there was a hole in the horizon before the Chitauri began swarming through it.

The first explosion was seconds later, close enough to knock me slightly off balance.

And then the door in front of me flew open and my friend appeared, practically in full sprint before she caught my eye.

"Violet, thank God!" She skidded to a stop next to me and threw keys into my hand. "Get inside my apartment, lock all the bolts, hunker down in the bathtub, and do not come out until I come back for you!"

She instantly took off running again so I had to call after her.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm pretty sure this is me being called into work," Sharon pointed at the sky without another glance backward. "Now take cover!"

I, of course, did not.

As we have perhaps already ascertained, my response to life-threatening situations has never been exactly orthodox.

So as the next string of explosions lit the skyline, I took a deep breath and took off after Sharon and toward the best likelihood of fatality.

I had often looked back at the moment, at that specific decision, and deeply wondered if I had been seeking recompense for my part in the death of that man on that dark night at 3 a.m.

It certainly wasn't as though I hadn't often thought of him.

His obscure nature had haunted my dreams on numerous occasions, and I always awoke with questions I knew I'd never get the answer to, and deep deep regrets.

And so, even to this day, I wonder if it was yet again my selfishness that propelled me forward.

It wasn't as though I wasn't equipped to help in such a situation at least.

My ever present, yet ever hidden, need to do something greater, to be something greater, had seeped into my career path and I had veered toward the humble yet critical profession of nursing.

I didn't have to go far to reach the outskirts of the carnage. As the metallic-looking aliens continued to descend, the destruction continued to grow rapidly. The smell of death was already in the air.

When wailing reached my ears, I veered right and turned a corner to spot a woman trapped under debris. Her leg was buried beneath a piece of fallen building and two men were attempting to lift it.

She screamed again and I matched her volume shouting, "Stop! Stop! Don't lift that!"

The men froze as I reached them.

"I'm a nurse," I explained out of breath. "Her femoral artery is severed. If you remove that cement she'll bleed out in minutes."

"We can't leave her here," the man faced me with panicked eyes.

"I said nothing about leaving her here," I hushed him and quickly knelt beside the sobbing woman.

"Hey there, I'm a nurse and we're going to get you out of here in a jiffy," I promised.

Turned back to the men, I got down to business. "You, give me your shirt," I pointed. "And do either of you have any matches or a lighter?"

I won't go into the gory details of what happened next, but it involved a hand-made splint and cauterization, and ended with me splattered in a fair amount of blood and the woman being carried safely away.

"All in a good day's work," I murmured to myself, pausing for only a minute to tie my hair back before exiting the alley.

Possibly not my greatest life decision.

I was met with the sight of what appeared to be about a dozen alien hovercrafts flying down the main street, demolishing everything in their path.

Diving back into the alley, I curled into ball and counted the seconds until they had zoomed past.

Then there was no time for hesitation.

I stuck close to the front of the buildings and sprinted in the direction they had come from, nearly colliding with the next person I came across.

The woman had a nasty gash on her arm and was holding it gingerly, but seemed to forget her pain when she registered me and roughly grabbed me by both shoulders.

"Please," she begged. "Please they grabbed my husband and pulled him down that alley. Please help me!"

I nodded hard and fast. "Okay okay," I agreed. "Get inside one of these stores and hide behind the counter, I'll find your husband."

Yes, I realize I'm only a nurse, and yes, I realized it then, but my reaction seemed to be the only logical one at the time.

So I turned in the direction she had pointed with no real plan and a hopeless hope that they would have dropped him in some saveable condition.

In only minutes I came across a man, clearly not Chitauri, with his back to me and sighed with relief.

That is until I registered an archer, clearly in my sight but not the mans, standing on a rooftop and taking aim.

The moments that followed played out far cooler, and more successful, in my head.

What really took place was that I shouted some sort of unintelligible nonsense and only attempted to tackle the man out of the way as the arrow was let fly.

To be fair, I really did throw all of my weight into his body. Yet all I managed to do was shuffle him over a few inches.

My failure was rewarded with a piercing trauma to my right arm.

Without blinking, the man raised his arm, something very green and shiny happened, and the archer was knocked off the roof and out of sight.

The man, somehow unconvinced that I was not a threat as well, proceeded to bring his spear-like object to my throat.

And that is when we both got a nice long look at the other's face.

He dropped his hand to his side and stepped back instantly, studying me, as my jaw dropped.

"Oh my god… shadow… it's you," I exclaimed.

"The damsel from the bridge," he concurred, any shock he might have felt pushed aside. "I do wonder how your guilt has been treating you."

For once it was I ignoring him as I stared down at my arm.

"Oh my god… I've been shot… with a freaking arrow," I exclaimed even louder.

"That would appear to be the case," he said with annoyance clouding his features.

I grinned brightly up at him suddenly and he tilted his head curiously.

"Do you know what this means?" I sucked in a shaky breath. "I saved your life! I just saved your life! I have no idea how you're actually alive, but here, right now, you're standing here and you're breathing because of me!"

Out of relief and gratitude mixed with adrenaline, I was suddenly throwing my good arm around his neck and pulling him close. I had to stand on the tips of my toes to even attempt to get to his level, but then succeeded in my heartfelt hug for about three seconds.

What followed was a blood-curdling scream.

A person is likely to have that response when you rip an arrow out of her arm with no warning after all.

Throwing my hand over the wound, I moved to jump away from him but he easily held me in place with one hand to my shoulder. His other hand ripped the sleeve off of my shirt as though he was plucking a blade of grass.

"What is wrong with you?!" I shuttered as blood started to seep through my fingers.

"Just hold still," he sighed, moving my hand out of the way as gentle fingers began to secure the cloth around my arm.

I hissed when he pulled it tight, but when he stepped back, I had to admit he had done a skilled job.

"I have stabilized your wound," he stated pointedly. "I owe you no debt."

"Ah but you forget," I squinted up at him. "I apparently saved your life once before."

The response I received was instantaneous, violent, and unexpected. Not unlike our whole relationship had been so far.

I found myself thrust up against the brick wall behind me with his hand around my throat, squeezing threateningly but not quite enough to affect my air flow.

"I. Owe. You. No. Debt." he ground out through bared teeth.

My eyes widened and the corner of his lip turned upward as I attempted to remove his arm with absolutely no success.

"Okay who are you and what is your problem?" I let my arms drop to my side. "I'm starting to think you've got some serious psychopathic tendencies going on."

As if to exemplify my point, his attention shifted to follow the sound of screams as the woman with the gashed arm entered our line of sight from the alley. I immediately went back to fighting his grasp, hissing that we had to help her and then screaming for her to come to us, before he clapped a hand over my mouth.

"Shhh," he murmured. "Just watch."

She turned to face us, following my voice, just as the Chitauri reached her.

There was a booming noise and flames and then half of her body disappeared, leaving what was left to splatter to the ground.

The man was watching me again, which afforded him just enough time to remove his hands before the contents of my stomach came up and onto the cement, looking not unlike what was left of the woman.

I slid to the ground in shock and horror, leaving him to tower over me even more. My mouth kept opening over and over but no sound was coming out.

"You wish to know who I am?" He opened his arms wide and stared upward where his backdrop was all aliens and explosions and death. "Here is your answer."

….

Honest to God it was only after he strode away, that I actually put any thought into the strange green light or the spear. Adrenaline will do that to you.

The back of my mind told me that I knew what it must mean, but I couldn't accept it until I passed the TV in the store front when I finally picked myself up off the concrete.

The newsperson looked to be in shock as he narrated video of New York.

And there was the shadow.

Riding on an alien ship through the streets of the city and destroying everything in his path with a glorious grin.

"Loki," I had murmured without ever making the conscious decision to speak. "Loki Laufeyson of Azgard."


	3. The Sins of the World

The fourth, fifth, fifteenth, forty-sixth, and seventieth times I saw him were all with a matter of days. I couldn't stop seeing him. He was everywhere. On every television channel, on every radio station, in every conversation.

Those days that followed The Battle of New York were the second darkest of my life.

I had made my way back to Sharon's apartment in a daze, not truly comprehending the death and destruction around me.

I had climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and sat in a chair at her kitchen table.

And that is exactly where I remained for two days.

When she had finally come stumbling through the door, bloodied and near passing out from exhaustion, she had taken one look at me and silently sat down across the table.

It had taken me a while to form words but I finally, unable to meet her eyes, whispered, "How many?"

She tried to reach for my hand but I pulled back quickly as though I was stung.

"We won't know for sure for weeks," she stated somberly. "They're estimating around 200,000."

I would have thrown up again if there was anything left in me.

"Loki Laufeyson led the attack," it wasn't a question but Sharon nodded.

"Yes it looks like he led the alien race here with intentions of taking over the planet," she clarified.

I finally looked her straight in the eyes and stated the three words that had been playing on repeat like a mantra in my mind over and over.

"I did this."

The normal reaction would have been to assure me that I was sleep-deprived, that I was feeling survivor's guilt, that I had PTSD.

But Sharon did none of the above. She was either just that good at her job or she saw something in my eyes. Maybe both.

"What do you mean?" she had calmly asked instead.

"Those 200,000 people… their deaths are on me," then I did dry-heave.

She was sitting a little straighter then, and I pretended I couldn't see her pointer finger tapping on her thigh.

"Violet," her tone was steady, too steady. "I'm going to need you to explain."

I held her stare and in a whisper practically under my breath admitted, "I saved him."

She sucked in a breath.

"Who Violet?" she asked in a way that told me she already knew exactly who.

"I didn't know who he was, I didn't know what he was," I swore. "I just saw him standing there and I saw the archer taking aim and well…" I gestured to my arm that was stilled tied together with my sleeve.

"The archer," she repeated as her eyes widened with realization. "Oh god Violet. You're the girl who got Barton thrown off the skyscraper?"

"I didn't know," I repeated weakly. "Loki, he didn't look like the other aliens. I just reacted."

"Agent Clint Barton is an Avenger," Sharon told me. "Hawkeye ring a bell?"

"Is he…" I couldn't say the words but I had to know.

Thankfully she shook her head quickly. "No, no, he's got a couple of cracked ribs but he'll be okay."

The slight relief made no difference.

"It could have been stopped right there Sharon, all of it," we both knew I was right. "I aided one of the greatest terrorists this world has ever seen."

She was studying me intently, planning her next move, and I could tell the exact moment she decided and her eyes shifted from agent to friend.

"Okay we're going to handle this," she promised. "I've got your back."

She made no attempt to console my guilt. She was fully aware it would have done no good.

"Did you speak to Loki at all?" she asked and I nodded in response.

"Okay then," she looked at me regrettably. "I'm going to have to call this in. You could know something that could help us."

I nodded again.

"I want to take responsibility, no matter the cost."

"I can respect that," she was quick enough to grab my hand that time and held on hard. "But you need to follow my lead on this. You can't go in there claiming you killed all those people, we just have to give a factual account of what took place and that's all."

"I _did_ kill all those people," I corrected her but she shook it off.

"That's a matter of opinion," she insisted.

…..

After Sharon disappeared into her bedroom to call her supervisor, she returned with the news we both expected.

I was to be taken into her agency's base.

Sharon had never been able to tell me, or anyone for that matter, what she did beyond the fact that she was an agent. I had always just assumed CIA due to all the hush hush. But when our car entered a network of tunnels that appeared to run beneath the entire city, I began to doubt that even the CIA had that kind of power.

"It's going to be fairly intimidating," she was telling me.

I'm almost positive that she was fully aware I wasn't at all listening as I was basically running on autopilot at that point to avoid my emotions, but perhaps she was attempting to uphold some semblance of normalcy.

When I had exited the car about an hour later into a massive cavern bustling with activity, I was certain the me from three days ago would have been losing her mind with excitement and curiosity. The me who hadn't been awake for three days. The me who wasn't still covered in crusty blood that wasn't my own with an arrow wound that was quite possibly infected. The me who wasn't a mass murderer.

The me after The Battle of New York was entirely incapable of processing emotion. I had decided it must be my body's automatic defense response, possibly to keep me from grabbing any of the numerous guns around me and, well, you know. I had laughed right out loud at the insanity of that thought, a laugh devoid of any actual joy, and Sharon had cast a concerned sideways glance in my direction.

She thought I wouldn't notice, but I did.

We were ushered into a holding room and then Sharon was quickly ushered back out of it, an order which she attempted to argue before she was reminded of her rank.

"Tell them the _facts_ Violet," she reminded with a pointed stare before the door was closed.

It didn't reopen for who knows how long. There was no clock in the small room, an obvious interrogation tactic. The metal table in-front of me was cold and hard, but my eyes were far too heavy to be concerned with its feel on my forehead.

…

I opened my eyes to the sound of the door opening.

And there he was.

"I do wonder how your guilt has been treating you," Loki smirked as the door shut behind him.I sprung to my feet, feeling far too many things at once.

"How are you here?" I asked horrified.

His smirk turned into a full grin and suddenly I could hear sirens and screams and explosions sifting through the door.

"Sharon!" I screamed and charged the door, but his arm easily reached out and caught my waist.

Loki barely flicked his wrist and I was thrown back against the opposite wall.

"Now now," he feigned disappointment. "I thought you and I could have a little chat."

"What do you want?" I shuttered.

He tilted his head. "Why for you to join me of course."

"Join you?" I repeated.

"Yes of course! You helped me defeat New York and now I've come to kill those who have imprisoned you and break you free. I'm not so fond of debts you remember."

"No…" The whisper was all I could manage.

"Can't you hear it?" he pointed toward the door. "All that death. All that death happening for you, because of you."

I was staring at the door in horror when Sharon broke through it.

And then Loki had her gun with one hand and her neck with the other.

"Well isn't this an interesting predicament," he murmured looking at me with an obvious curiosity as to what I would do next.

"Loki, please, please don't hurt her," I begged, hands out in-front of me with wide, hopeful eyes. "I'll join you, I'll come with you, I'll do anything. Just let her turn around and go back out that door."

"I'm not leaving you," Sharon stated with a voice of steel.

"Oh please," Loki interjected. "This is so terribly predictable."

"Name what you want, just name it and I'll do it," I was begging him but couldn't look away from her eyes. "If you're going to hurt someone hurt me instead."

"I'm bored," he stated.

And in the next instant, snapped her neck.

The noise that came out of my throat was not human, and Loki finally looked pleased with our interaction.

"This is what I want," he explained. "I do think it could be quite enjoyable to do this to each and every person you care about one at a time."

He kicked Sharon's body across the floor and she slid to a stop in front of me.

"Welcome to the rest of your life."

…..

I opened my eyes to the sound of the door opening.

It took me longer than I liked to reconnect with reality after I picked my head up off the table.

"Did you have sweet dreams?" A man with an eye-patch was taking the seat across from me.

"Not particularly no," I sighed and ran a trembling hand through my hair.

The man cleared his throat and looked very much as though he was trying to figure me out. Finally, he leaned back a bit in the chair.

"I'm Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D," he offered.

"Shield?" I questioned.

"All that matters is that we're the good guys," he shook his head dismissively. "Now, Agent Carter has informed us that you might have some information on our friendly neighborhood god of mischief."

"God of mischief?" I was really trying to catch up.

"No offensive but I don't have time to sit here and walk you through everything you don't know," he stated matter of factly. "Why don't you just take me step by step through your interaction with Loki."

I didn't tell him about the bridge.

I have no idea why.

In that moment, I told myself that it simply wasn't important, that it couldn't possibly help them in any way so why bother.

All I really knew was that something deep in my bones was telling me to keep that night to myself.

So I told Director Fury every detail of our interaction from three days ago and left it at that.

When I was finished, we sat silently for a while studying each other until he finally spoke.

"Why didn't he kill you?"

The question was simple enough, yet somehow it had never once crossed my mind.

Why hadn't he killed me?

I started crying then. For the first time since it all went down.

It started so suddenly that I didn't even realize tears were dripping down my cheeks until my vision grew blurry.

It wasn't a sob or even an explosion of emotion, it was simply silent waves of tears flowing down my face as I sat still.

Something flashed across Director Fury's face and then he was thanking me for coming in and ushering me through the door.

I wiped off my face with my remaining sleeve before stepping through it to find Sharon waiting right outside. I might have hugged her but she wasn't alone.

A red-headed woman was standing at attention next to her. A woman who brought the phrase 'looks can kill' to life.

"Is this her?" she asked calmly. Another question when the answer was already known.

"Agent Romanoff," Director Fury said slowly with a warning in his voice.

He didn't get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say because the woman was already throwing a well-placed right hook into my jaw.

I dropped as Director Fury yelled, "Agent Romanoff! Stand down!"

"Yes sir," she stated coldly before looking down at me. "That was for Clint."

Sharon collected me up off the floor with a glare at Agent Romanoff's retreating form.

"Sir," she addressed Fury. "Permission to take Ms. Williams to the med bay to get her arm looked at?"

He nodded but then grabbed my shoulder just as Loki had.

"Our mistakes do not define us Ms. Williams."

I swallowed down the sob that threatened to emerge and steeled my gaze as Sharon led me down the hallway.


	4. When Charlotte Spins her Web

The weeks that had followed were much of the same.

Sharon used her government agent card to convince my employer that I had been critically harmed in The Battle of New York and that I would be stuck in a hospital in New York for at least another month.

She then insisted that I temporarily move into her apartment, which simply meant that she didn't trust me to be on my own, but neither of us cared to voice that.

Her concern was proven when she would every so often break protocol to inform me of Clint Barton's improvements.

After the fifth night in a row of being awakened by my screams, she even broke and told me that Loki was in prison back on Asgard.

She stuck by my side every moment that she wasn't at work. When she was gone I'd just sit inside, usually staring out a window.

I had tried to go running a few times but was only left with my skin crawling and the feeling that I was being watched around every corner.

To say I couldn't exactly cope would have been an understatement.

I couldn't turn on the TV, I couldn't meet anyone's eyes in public, I couldn't even face Sharon half the time. In fact, with Sharon it was the hardest. She was the one who knew. What I did, who I was now. It made me sick to see myself through her eyes.

She tried once to tell me that many of her friends have done awful things and it hasn't defined them, but I had quietly asked her if any of them had killed 200,000 people, and she hadn't brought it up again.

The days passed and I grew desperate.

For what? I haven't the slightest idea.

To my credit, I made it an entire two weeks before doing something drastic.

Basically, Sharon left the room to use the bathroom and I grabbed her keys.

There had been no plan involved, but as soon as my foot touched the gas, I knew the destination.

While I admit I'm not entirely sure, I don't think I was heading there to jump off. Although that would have been terribly poetic.

I think I was going there for answers.

But life had a different path for me to take, and it forced me to take it, literally.

A road on my route had been closed off due to a large gathering in the city. A candlelight vigil to be more specific.

A candlelight vigil for the victims of the Battle of New York.

I could see the crowd ahead, thick with hundreds of people, and parked the car.

I am many things. But not a coward.

I moved through the crowd slowly, taking in the distraught and solemn faces around me. The air was quiet leaving the speaker's voice to disperse clearly across the square. He was talking about strength in the face of adversity as I drew closer to the platform.

I began weaving faster and faster through the bodies surrounding me. I could finally see a way out and I was going to take it. Let the crowd determine my fate.

But just as I reached for the first rung on the steps, a hand darted out and grasped my wrist.

A familiar face pulled me back a mere few feet so we were once again buried in the crowd.

"Agent Romanoff?" I was mainly confused. "Why are you here?"

Her eyes weren't cold per say, but simply unreadable.

"For the same reason you are I'd imagine," she replied.

I wasn't sure what to say but she had yet to let go of my wrist.

She nodded her head toward the platform. "Interesting tactic."

I shrugged, "Go big or go home, right?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "In my experience, I've found subtleness can be far more impactful."

"When you want the outcome to be in your favor perhaps," I shot back.

Her head tilted, and she stared at me for far too long. And then, without warning, she was pulling me in for what any outsider would have seen as a hug, but what felt a whole lot more like a forceful inverted chokehold of which I had no chance escaping.

She placed her mouth next to my ear and was lowly speaking before I was even able to react.

"You trusted the wrong person. Your instinct was ridiculously, insanely off. You may not have physically harmed a single person, you may have even helped a few, but you are partly responsible for an innumerable number of deaths. You took away my best friend's chance at redemption so now he is forced to feel the same way you are. You screwed up royally and your life will never be the way it was before. You will never be the same. So what are you going to do about it? You're going to walk up on that stage in front of these people who are grieving and in pain and tell them what? That you did this? What will that change? You can't fix what you did. You'll never be able to. So you need to pick yourself up off the ground and go about the rest of your life attempting to reach the unattainable goal of making up for your sins and not letting those people die in vain. But you can't do that if you allow yourself to remain in this slump of self-hatred and pity."

She pulled back then, staring me straight in the eyes. "You need to figure out what it is you need to move on with your life." she stated calmly before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

You know those moments when you look back and can tell the exact moment your life pivoted to an entirely different direction?

Well that was mine.

...

"I need to see Loki."

It was the first thing out of my mouth when the door swung open to reveal a rather attractive brunette rocking a lumberjack look.

"Well I won't say you've come to the wrong place," he looked more amused than anything.

Nothing was more surprising than when he simply stepped aside and gestured for me to enter.

"Welcome to Avenger's Tower!" He grinned.

Nevertheless, I stepped inside as he called out, "Jarvis is Thor around?"

A kind voice came as though from the ceiling. "Thor is currently attending to matters on Asgard."

Lumberjack was eyeing me intensely as he replied, "Jarvis send word for him to return."

"Are you certain that is necessary?" The kind voice responded. "He gave instruction not to be disturbed."

"It's necessary Jarvis," Agent Romanoff came striding into the room, giving the brunette a nod that clearly said 'I've got this.'

"I was wondering when you were going to get here," she turned her full attention to me as he stepped out of the room without a backward glance.

"So what, you just let anyone walk in here?" I ignored her implication that she had predicted my intentions.

"Oh Clint is pretty aware of who you are," she tilted her head slightly, waiting to see if I would catch up.

Little did she know his name was in my dreams nearly every other night.

My reaction was instantaneous. But her intuition was quicker.

Somehow she was standing in front of me again before I had even completed my turn, effectively cutting off the path to where my guilt had walked away.

"If he had wanted an apology then he would have revealed who he was," her eyes were somber. "Not everyone holds you as responsible as you hold yourself. Trust me."

I got the feeling that she was quite often five steps ahead of each person she encountered.

"Agent Romanoff…" I started, but suddenly the room was shaking and then over the instant it began.

I was still recovering from what I could only describe as a bright flash of earthquake, when none other than Tony Stark came stepping quickly into the room.

"Um what the hell is Thor doing back?" he was spattering. "He specifically said he would need some time, and I swear to god if he is bringing us another issue…"

He stopped mid-sentence upon seeing me.

"Violet Williams," he was clearly sizing me up. "No one mentioned you were so hot... in a sleepless PTSD sort of way."

Romanoff rolled her eyes but wore a soft smile, clearly used to his shenanigans.

"Yeah I guess some people prefer to hide their PTSD with cocky confidence," I shrugged.

It was meant as a harmless quip but when he physically took a step back causing a split second of genuine confusion to slide across Romanoff's face, I realized I had yet again stumbled into something I had no business sticking my nose in.

"That Captain America," I rambled on without a second thought. "All over the news soaking in all this praise when the guy has to be suffering from trauma, ya know?"

It was basically nonsense, the pair knew even better than I that the Captain was likely the humblest human alive, and no one was fooled by my attempt at backtracking, but they moved on all the same.

"Right, well better not keep Thor waiting," Romanoff ushered me toward another set of doors and threw Stark a wink which I'm fairly sure was entirely for his benefit.

"See ya around sleepless," Stark smirked, clinging to the lame nickname in an attempt at recovery.

As soon as the elevator door closed behind us, the redhead turned to me.

"How'd you know?" she demanded.

"I didn't," I had sighed, and the ride up was silent after that.

...

Thor had taken one look at me, stalked across the room, and grabbed my shoulders in his hands.

"I don't know whether to thank you for saving my brother's life or hate you for allowing him to create such a legacy for himself," he murmured, looking deep into my eyes.

"I'll settle for whatever emotion makes you want to let me see him," I was nothing if not a woman grasping for dear life to a single mission.

He scoffed and looked at Romanoff instead, "Humans cannot just be brought to Asgard."

She did not seem deterred in the slightest.

"Have you made any progress?" she asked calmly.

He paused and then shook his head, frowning slightly and sighed.

"Loki will perish before he reveals anything," he admitted.

"How far is Odin willing to go?"

His silence was all she needed to continue.

"Why do you think it is that Williams here was the only person to come face to face with your brother without him making even a single attempt on her life?"

She was asking questions in a way that were leading Thor to the conclusion she desired, and I was in awe.

"She took an arrow for him," he determined, voicing my thoughts exactly.

"Does the god of mischief, the great trickster, the orchestrator of mass genocide, really seem like the type of being who would experience gratitude toward what he views as an ant?" she questioned.

And suddenly the god of thunder's attention was entirely on me, staring into my eyes as though the answers laid within.

But Agent Romanoff was not yet finished.

"He stabbed his own brother Thor," she stated. "And one could argue that Williams walked away in even better shape than before her interaction, what with him stabilizing her wound."

"Why would he do that?" it was as though he was asking himself.

"Thor," she paused and her voice said it was time to bring her point home. "In all your years together, has Loki ever been one to allow someone to walk away?"

It must have been a gamble because she couldn't possibly have known for sure that he had never, in 1,500 years, been merciful toward a perceived enemy.

But Thor's face was saying it all, and I had to wonder if a super serum or weaponized suit really had anything at all on the Black Widow.

"You think she can get him to talk?" Thor murmured and hope entered his voice.

"I think she's the best shot you've got."

I know now that Natasha had seen a way to bring something out in me while simultaneously furthering The Avengers' goals. And she had then gone about convincing two people who would have never considered such a plan that we conceived the intention ourselves.

Which is basically how I came face to face with Loki for the third time.


	5. Redemption

I had passed out about two seconds after the bifrost scooped us up, and woke up lying in an extravagantly golden room.

The last thing I could remember was Thor's frantic insistence that under no circumstances could his father find out I was there which required keeping me entirely hidden at all times, so I slipped out of bed as quickly as possible and slid up against the nearest wall.

"You don't exactly blend in my dear," a woman who exuded both warmth and nobility was standing across the room and nodding to my jeans and black t-shirt.

I considered pretending to pass out or insisting that I was Odin's special guest and was not to be disturbed or playing the part of an Asgardian spy who had just returned from earth, but ultimately I just made a mad dash for the door. They couldn't tie me to Thor if they couldn't find me after all.

The door closed all on its own before I could even reach it.

"Violet please," the woman put her hands up when I spun around. "Thor asked me to help you. I'm his mother, Frigga."

"You're Loki's mom?" It's not all that surprising that's where my mind ended up.

"I am." She stood up straighter and held her head higher then, the stature of a woman all too used to defending her close relationship with a monster.

"Then he's destroyed you too," I muttered, suddenly wondering why exactly I had come.

"The only person that can destroy you is yourself," she countered. "We may fool ourselves into thinking that life is about what happens to us, but really it's only about how we react to it."

"And how have you chosen to react to it?" I imagined that the person who had created him had to have been feeling some semblance of the guilt I was, but she smiled softly.

"I choose to see through my son and love him for what I know he can be," she was nothing if not honest.

"Yeah I tried the whole 'seeing the good in everyone' thing and, I gotta say, it didn't work out so well for me," I mumbled.

"How can you be sure?" she asked. "Do you know the end of this path you're on?"

I did, in fact, know how my journey was going to end, but that wasn't anything I intended to tell her, or anyone for that matter.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," I said instead.

"You're quite right," she smiled, holding up her hands as a purple gown with gold beading appeared out of thin air. "Why don't you throw this on? And if anyone asks, you're Sara Chanuson, a childhood friend of Loki's."

…..

It turns out when you're walking around with a queen, no one really stops you to ask any questions. Plus a queen knows how to avoid the king.

We were only stopped when we reached the top of a steep descending staircase.

"My Queen," the guard recognized, bowing his head respectively.

"This is Lady Sara," her whole essence making her position of power known. "She is to be given tier two access."

I had been told this meant I was free to roam outside of the prisoner's cells, but was in no way allowed access inside.

"This is as far as I go," she regarded me, and a moment of her deep sadness slipped through. "Remember, don't take other's words as promise. Trust only what you yourself know to be true."

And then she was gliding back the way we had come, and I was realizing that the guard was under the impression that I knew entirely what I was doing.

"Right, well, thank you," I muttered to him before scurrying down the stairs.

I couldn't help but pause at the site that laid before me. I'm not really sure what I even expected of the Asgardian dungeons but it certainly wasn't cells made of shimmery gold frames with clear walls of energy that made the whole place look practically elegant.

The single row seemed to go on for as far as the eye could see, and I just _knew_ the god of mischief would be at the end of it.

Whether surprisingly or not, I had never been in an earth prison, but I had seen enough TV to know what to expect from the inmates as I walked the path between them. So I kept my eyes straight forward and simply let the slurs roll off my back. When I did not provide their expected reaction, the verbal attacks quickly escalated even further, but funnily enough it's rather easy to steer clear of emotions like offense or embarrassment when you view yourself as even lower than they do.

I know I should have felt some sort of dread in the pit of my stomach as I got closer, but truely all I felt was empty.

And then there he was.

Staring absentmindedly at the ceiling, his arms folded under his head, his feet kicked up.

He had no doubt heard the ruckus that trailed after me, but made no move to acknowledge I was there.

I opened my mouth and it was only then that I paused.

What could I have possibly said to him?

Instead, I suddenly found myself sitting with my back against the wall at the end of the row, and settling for simply staring at him.

The god of mischief however, had all the time in the world and I had none at all, so it was I who eventually broke after what must have been hours of contemplation.

"When were you born?" A slight quirk of one eyebrow was his only reaction to the strange question.

"I must say, it is quite curious that you managed to get onto Asgard," was all he said.

But if he wasn't going to bite than neither would I.

"Answer the question," I put as much gusto into my voice as I could manage but he lazily stretched in response.

"Why?" I could already tell he had a way of asking questions as though he was declaring a dare.

"What have you got to lose," I determined.

That's when he finally sat up and looked me in the eyes.

"No no," he practically drawled. "The question is, what do you have to gain?"

I didn't even pause.

"Redemption."

Call me crazy but I chose the tactic of honesty, with a mostly desperate hope that he might, at some point, reciprocate.

For better or worse, that got his full attention.

"Ah yes your hero complex," he practically spat the word.

"Contrary to your messed up beliefs, the desire to be a good person is generally considered a positive goal," I defended.

"You think you wish to be a good person?" He laughed but it was entirely devoid of happiness. "Call me what you will, but it can never be said that I am unaware of who or what I am."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I don't quite remember why I was engaging, perhaps just to keep him talking.

"You've disillusioned your own mind into thinking that you live your life for everyone else, but it is all self-glorification," he growled, rising to his full height to tower over where I rested on the floor. "You act and react to achieve the outcome in which you can look kindly upon yourself. Look at yourself now! You claim to be so distraught over the slaughter of your race, yet here you are solely consumed with your own pain."

"I _do_ know who I am," I hissed, jabbing a finger in his direction. "That is exactly the problem. I know exactly who you turned me into, who I turned myself into."

"Do you?" He didn't bother to hide his blatant curiosity.

"I am the ant you mistakenly believe my whole race to be," I admitted disgustedly. "I am a person who deserves no redemption."

"And what _do_ you feel you deserve?" he was studying me.

"You and I?" I sighed, allowing my exhaustion to write itself across my face. "We deserve a special place in hell."

To this day I'm still not quite sure what caused him to pause, calmly sit back down, and mutter, "1,400 years give or take."

"What?" I squinted at him.

"I'm a bit over 1,400 years old," he snapped in reply.

I had just stared at him blankly and then rolled my eyes sighing.

"Come on," I had muttered. "That's not even amusing."

Loki had looked at me a bit like I was out of my mind, a look which I am now quite familiar with.

"And exactly what age would you find to be amusing?"

"I don't know, perhaps one that's a tad more believable," I threw back.

"You don't believe me," he did look amused then.

"Are you really so bored that convincing me you're somehow over _a thousand years old_ would bring you excitement?" I scoffed.

"My," his destain was back. "You are far more ignorant than I myself would have even anticipated."

He seemed almost disappointed when I showed no evidence of offense.

"You do realize I was just called words way worse than that on the way in here, right?"

He shrugged. "And yet that does not make it any less true."

"You're one to talk about truth old man," okay, I know, I do, I was just exhausted.

"Do you mean to tell me you just witnessed a full alien invasion of your planet and are now on another planet speaking to a god but my being centuries old is where you draw the line?"

I had to admit, his argument was fairly logical, but I still just shrugged.

"You are aware of how I view your significance, or lack thereof," he sighed. "It would not be worth my time to even bother spinning some untruth."

"Fair enough." It was then that I began realizing that there was a lot a didn't know about life. "So 1,400 years. You were born here then?"

He sucked in a quick, almost unnoticeable breath, and then simply waved his hand as though he was shooing me.

"Go away now," he commanded before lying back down in the position I'd found him.

Only the Queen had yet to come back, and I was fairly certain that wandering through the castle wouldn't be the wisest plan of action.

"I'll just stay here then," I snapped, but he gave no acknowledgement.

At some point I felt my eyes began to slip shut and made the decision that I didn't really care.

….

When I awoke, Loki was standing at the edge of the cell, his hands folded neatly behind his back, staring at me.

He seemed to wait almost patiently as I pulled my sore limbs into a sitting position and felt the past day's events come back to me.

I was about to make some quip about how creepy he was when I met his eyeline. The intensity I found there was otherworldly and made me freeze.

He took his sweet time, clearly exerting the dominance he still held even from within a cage.

"Do you fear me?"

It was a dare if I ever heard one, but I couldn't really be bothered to lie to him either.

"No."

An honest answer but not for the reason he assumed.

I waited for anger or an attempt to force me to fear him, but the man, or god rather, defies logic.

He just grinned.


End file.
